


The Reichenbach's Fault

by 2broschillin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson is stupid, Angst, BAMF John Watson, Betrayal!, I really like commas, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, No Eurus Holmes, Sad, Sherlock in Love, evil!John, i mean it is sherlock, marry didn't go and fuck everything up, moriarty's back but also not really, mrs.hudson is a bamf, murder i guess, sherlock can cry???, sherlock is the most human human being, two bros sitting at a murder scene 6 feet apart because they're not gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2broschillin/pseuds/2broschillin
Summary: It had been two years since Sherlock looked down onto the icy pavement of St. Barts Hospital. He had spent the time disbanding Moriarty’s network. On a twist from The Empty Hearse, it wasn't a terrorist attack but a spree of killings with the same dramatic flair as Moriarty. Was it a copycat? yeah, obviously, you can read the notes. But Sherlock can't!
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, mycroft and sherlock being bros
Kudos: 18





	1. The Resurrection Of Sherlock Holmes (and his emotions)

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a fic before, so apologies, i wrote this at 2 in the morning. I was running off of oreos and john mulaney sketches, it might now be the best. I cried plenty of times, and spared y'all alotta pain.

Somewhere in Serbia:

 _“_ _Шта?"_

_( **What?** )_

_"Сад ме слушај._

( **Now, Listen to me.** )

_У Лондон_ _у је дошло до штрајка убистава, сви су обликовани као Мориарти_

( **There’s been a spike in murders all over London, all styled by what seems like, Moriarty** )

_Извини, али празник је готов_ _…_

( **Sorry, but the holiday is over...** )

_Брате драги."_

( **Brother Dear.** )

———————————————————————————————————————————————

**In a cab somewhere in London:**

**S** herlock and Mycroft Holmes’s voices can be heard in the back seat of a plain yellow cab. Following his mistake the first time, Sherlock promptly decided to put some of his Homeless Network agent into cabs. The driver’s name was Brian, a formerly-unemployed 35 year old man who had the utmost respect for the Holmes Family.

“He can’t be back. I saw him put a bullet through his head,” Sherlock speaks with an annoyed tone “You simply can’t come back from that.”

“Well, it might be somebody from his web. You were dismantling it, but if you missed a single person,” Mycroft sighed“It could reform.”

“Nope. Not possible. There's my stop, and here's to me not being dead anymore.”

“Yes, cheers, Dear Brother”

Sherlock stepped out of the cab, ready to seamlessly sink into his former life. First on the list, “Resurrecting” as he called it. Announcing his arrival to those who were unaware of his secret.

Mrs. Hudson was shocked.

Geoff (Graham?) Lestrade even gave him a hug. 

Anderson begged him for the story of how he survived, like the cretin he is.

One by one he went down the list, until he reached a name he couldn’t bare look at.

“John Watson” 

Next to his name was a series of scribbled notes about possible strategies for his return.

_-Go to a restaurant in a disguise; it has to include mustaches and a french accent_

_-Jump out of a cake?_

_-just talk to him, you goddamn idiot_

_-swim up to him in an aquarium_

_-rise up out of grave_

_-AGHHGHGH_

_-????_

_-track him?_

_-go to his office?_

He decided that he had done enough for one day and as a treat, he started working on the murders.

———————————————————————————————————————————————

**H** e went into his mind palace and was barely able to concentrate, a series of thoughts flew into his brain.

Similar to a parasite, the words multiplied from each other.

**-“What if John doesn’t forgive you?”**

**-“What if, your only ally, abandoned you?”**

**-“He might have moved on”**

**-“He never felt the same way back to you”**

**-“He didn’t love you and now he never will”`**

He couldn’t take it, for the first time in what felt like ages, William Sherlock Scott Holmes let out a weep.

Mrs. Hudson found him on the floor, she offered him some tea, deciding that now wasn’t the time to say “Not your housekeeper," but a time for comfort.

“He’s John Watson, I’ve never seen you look at anybody the way you looked at him, I’m sure he’ll be over the moon to see you!” 

Her’s words almost helped him. **Almost.**

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

**H** e was desperate to find John. The man who shot the deadly cabbie, the handsome army doctor, his best friend, his tragedy-struck love for the ages, and most notably, his wise, but blissfully unaware partner in crime.

He nearly went to Donovan. When he asked Mrs. Hudson for her help, she just told him that John had moved out two weeks after the Fall and she hadn’t seen him since. Going to Mycroft would be a sign of resignation towards emotions, he'd never live it down. He was lost without his Captain.

In the following days Sherlock checked in with Lestrade for cases. He solved every single one within the hour. Without John the high of solving crimes was depleted. He visited Barts Hospital, the Swimming pool where the duo first encountered Moriarty, and ever so often, he’d silently push the door open to John’s bedroom in the flat.

The bed frame was gathering dust. His closet was empty. His spare cane was all left of John Hamish Watson in 221B Baker Street. He grasped the handle tightly and placed it in a rather large lockbox hidden under the couch in the lounge. The apartment became messy and Mrs. Hudson gave up on her valiant effort to tidy up. John’s armchair had been moved to storage, with what seemed a ghost of past regrets sitting in it.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

**S** herlock couldn’t sleep. Not like his usual genius-you-wouldn’t-get-it insomnia. Every time he closed his eyes he saw John’s blurred face standing on the pavement. He heard the tremble as John told him not to jump. He knew the words John uttered when Sherlock’s “lifeless” body lay on the ground.

_“HE’S MY FRIEND. Let me through. Please. Please.”_

_He heard it all._

John’s sigh of defeat, his voice cracking with words to painful to hear.

The silent sobbing at the end of every line:

"You told me once, that you weren't a hero. Um, there were times I didn't even think you were human, but let me tell you this. You were the best man, the most human human being that I've ever know and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. So, there. I was so alone and I owe you so much. _And there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle Sherlock, for me: Don't be dead. Just for me. Just stop it. Stop this._ "

And he wasn’t dead, miracle accomplished. Now it was John's turn to make his wish come true

Because the one thing more terrifying than death, was the prospect of Sherlock dying alone, scared, and without John.

So he set out on a mission; **To Find John Watson**.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————-


	2. If The Pain Was For Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock continues to solve murders as he realizes something feels off about the killings. Somethings a little to personal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heres a brief chapter! I had knee surgery this morning and decided to do this! I'll write another one soon. Sorry for taking forever to write another.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 **M** rs. Hudsons shrill voice woke Sherlock out of a non-existent slumber. As he dreamt he thought of a world where John ran with him, where they were presumed dead together and could live happily. A unlikely ideal. Sherlock had been horrified at the idea of a first impression of return. He felt broken and defeated.  
-What if John never needed you?  
-What if you came back and were announced a coward?  
-What if Moriarty was back, and you hurt all those people for nothing?  
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 **S** herlock’s pondering didn’t last long as Mycroft entered the building with two boxes. All attempts at a adult conversation were thrown out the window as his older brother walked in with board games as Cluedo and operation. Childlike joy flooded Sherlock’s mind as he competed with the other Holmes for hours.

Mycroft had crossed a dangerous territory. He started speaking of Sherlock’s life pre-Reichenbach, as he mentioned John he could see the flinch in his younger brothers face. He asked him what Sherlock planned to do. The games were quickly put away as Mycroft was shunned out of the building by a incredibly mad Mrs. Hudson. She never quite liked him, her anger came in the form of cold tea and passive aggressive responses. She’d do anything for Sherlock, if only she could find John.  
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 **M** ore updates from the distressed Lestrade were passed onto Sherlock, recent killings, suspects and other things of the type.

Location 1:  
-Abandoned Hospital  
-Victim: 25 year old man named Ethan Rowe who was shot in the head and left shoulder  
He was shot from the next building over. He had no family but was seemingly well liked. Recently unemployed, use to work as a bus driver.

Sherlock felt uncomfortably nostalgic. It seemed he had been here before and he thought of his time with John Watson.  
It hit him suddenly. That was the first case Sherlock and John solved, the cabbie John shot in the head.

This murder was taunting him. He was punishing him for saving John and Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock pushed on, ready to face a creature so vile that they’d use his few emotions against him.  
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 **T** he next killing happened a few weeks after.

-Location 2:  
\- A public pool closed for the night.  
-Victim: A 20 year old man named Henry King, burned, staged as the rare case of a spontaneous combustion but Sherlock knew better.  
Again, the terror set in, feelings held against his will. He knew this was personal, from the burn threat, to explosives, to the victims name itself.  
Henry, the same first name as Henry Knight, the scared man Sherlock helped in the Baskervilles.  
Curiosity continued to get the better of Sherlock.  
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 **S** herlock walked to the morgue and found something peculiar. An oddity, it seemed to be a carnation carved into the left foot on both men. Drawn on after death.  
More senses ran down his spine. Memories of the museum shootout ending in Soo Lin Yao’s end. He felt guilty for the deaths he had caused.   
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 **T** he final case for weeks was a 35 year old person, their face too mutilated to find an identity. It seemed they were strangled before being shot and pushed off the building. This was too on the nose for Sherlock.  
All the arrows pointed to him. All the dots connected to Moriarty. He knew his pain and hurt was for nothing.

**He was _broken_.**

He let out a small cry and began to go through John Watson's blog, looking at the past from the eyes of the man he loves. How would John portray him? A cold calculating machine, or maybe just a _human_ doing his best.  
———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys. Toodles!


End file.
